


Fated Encounters

by ProustPerfume



Series: Sakusa and Hinata, Intertwined [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst (Kind of), Banter, Basically dealing with Hinata’s self doubt over getting a fever, Canon Compliant, Chapter 365 spoilers/centered around chapter 365, Emotions/Feelings, Hinata is too, Hurt/Comfort (kind of), M/M, Sakusa’s a little shit, Tokyo Nationals Arc (Haikyuu!!), Unbetaed we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProustPerfume/pseuds/ProustPerfume
Summary: An alternative scene exploring what if Sakusa and Hinata had met after Hinata was benched from the Kamomedai match
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Sakusa and Hinata, Intertwined [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883623
Comments: 6
Kudos: 170





	Fated Encounters

A fever. In the middle of a match. How foolish could he be to let it get that far? 

It had been hours since Karasuno accepted their bitter defeat against Kamomedai, the team sleeping restlessly at the dead of night, trying to stave off the pain for as long as possible before they’re grimly reminded of it the following morning on their drive back to Tohoku, but Hinata couldn’t sleep, plagued by his carelessness and his mistake that ultimately led to the defeat of his team.

Finally, they had made it to Nationals. Karasuno had overcome grueling task after grueling task to get to that center stage and the one to bring them all crashing down, the one who vowed his entire volleyball career to never drag his team down and to never have a game he’d regret, to never be the one responsible for their loss even if the others wouldn’t admit it; Hinata Shoyo fell ill in the middle of a match and had to be benched, costing them the game and their one way ticket to the center court and a chance to win Nationals.

Stupid. How stupid could he be? He was aware that at times he could become a bit overzealous, but to have it interfere with his playing and not only that but have it be the direct reason to lose such an important game? He felt crushed. Shameful. Embarrassed. But most of all, he felt sad. 

Sad that he couldn’t play volleyball more. Sad that he ruined the last season the third years would get to play in their last year. Sad that all of his teammates had so much faith and trust in him, and he completely betrayed them. Sad that he finally had a game he truly regretted playing.

A very small part of him was also terrified. What happened next? Were they supposed to just go home and pretend like none of this happened? Like there wasn’t a bitter end to this year’s volleyball season when it should’ve ended in triumph and success? And an even smaller part of him, almost a whisper in the back of his head dared to ask, if they couldn’t win it all, what was the point of any of this?

Though he quickly wanted to dispel such a negative, defeated thought from his mind, it wouldn’t detach itself from him so easily. Truly, what was the reason for him to play volleyball if not to win? To be the best? To be the one to stand on the court the longest? If he let something as frivolous and inane as a fever get in the way of the sense of hunger and victory that burned deep within his soul and mercilessly crawled its way to the top, did he even deserve to stand on that court anymore? How could he have the audacity to stand up to those players and force his way into their space if he couldn’t even take care of his own health?

He felt like a child, carelessness and the thrill of playing a game he loved for as long as he could clouding his vision and not letting him see the shaky, collapsing ground that stood beneath him. Interrupting his brooding, Yamaguchi snorted and choked on his spit before falling back into his silent sleep, undisturbed and completely unaware of the internal turmoil his teammate was battling a mere two futons away. 

Knowing that fighting his mind for sleep was yet another battle he wouldn’t be winning today, Hinata threw his covers off and quietly tiptoed out of the room the team was sharing, making sure to be silent and that no one was awake as he slipped through the hall and down to the front entrance. There was a moment where one of the wooden stairs squeaked loudly under his weight, making Hinata freeze in fear over the wrath of an angry, sensitive, and sleep deprived Daichi and Ennoshita coming to see who was sneaking out when they should’ve been sleeping, but after a moment of pausing as he strained his ears to hear if someone was approaching, all he heard were the snores of his teammates and coaches and concluded he was safe, making his way to the genkan to put on his shoes. 

Tokyo was cold at night, as expected, but Hinata couldn’t discern if the uncomfortable bite and chill of the wind was from his disappointment from the day or the fact that there were no mountains to protect him from the elements like there were in Tohoku, just buildings and bustling people and an unforgiving, relenting pace that of a big city that Hinata was questioning whether he could keep up with it for once.

Hinata has a lot of reasons to love Tokyo, but now he also bitterly had a reason to hate it. While it was the place where some of his closest friends lived as well as the place where only the strongest in Japan gathered and he had actually made it here, it was also the city where he, for the first time, seriously tasted defeat and that was a wound he didn’t think he would get over so soon. 

Sure, he’d lost to Kageyama, and sure, they’d lost to Aoba Johsai, but there was something more monumental about this loss. Something bigger about it that made it hurt much more than it had before, like instead of a paper cut on his finger he had been gashed through the chest and no simple bandaid could cover this laceration. 

He figured it all had to do with the city and what being in Tokyo meant. What it represented. He was supposed to be strong, and yet he was cut down so quickly. Not by a strong opponent that got the best of him, not a fantastic and out of this world play he couldn’t combat fast enough because he still had room to grow, no, he had loss because of himself, and that had to be the most disappointing part of all. 

People called him crazy for his dreams constantly, said they were too big and too high for him to reach, that he could never get to the top no matter how hard he tried. In the past, those sentiments angered him and made him strive to do even better than before, just to prove them wrong. Now, he feared that maybe they were right. Maybe he did dream too big too fast, and since he’d never had a different goal in mind and the one he did have was cruelly ripped away from him before he had even had the time to truly appreciate it, he didn’t know what to do. 

He looked to the hotel directly next to their inn and found it more than a little ironic how literal it was an example of just how much he had bit off and couldn’t swallow, how much farther he had to go. The hotel was big and grand, a looming presence over the small and modest inn they had only just barely been able to afford, and the contrast reminded him of too many things. Other players, his lack of skills, his own anxieties and possibly too high standards he had set for himself before he was ready to conquer them. Aggravated, he tore his eyes away from the building and tried to focus on something else. 

His eyes ended up landing in that direction anyway, only instead of falling onto the building they landed onto the figure standing outside it, resting against the cement ledge protecting the greenery similarly to how he was. With the darkness and distance, Hinata couldn’t make out exactly who it was, but with context clues he concluded it was probably someone from a volleyball team. They looked young enough and they wore a bright green tracksuit on top of it, but Hinata couldn’t exactly recall which school it possibly could’ve belong to at the moment, brain still fuzzy from the shock and adrenaline he had been running on all day with a new addition of lack of sleep coming in and fuzzing it up even more. 

Even though he couldn’t see their face clearly enough to make out their expression, however, he could still tell what they were feeling based on their body language; slumped over, crouching into themselves and refusing to raise their head, like they didn’t deserve to look up anymore when they’d fallen so far down.

This person had tasted the bitter taste of defeat too. 

Part of Hinata wanted to go over there and see what their deal was, but another part couldn’t be bothered. It was late, he was tired, and he really didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, his defeated friend just a few feet away probably the same. But then, a thought rang through his head, something Yachi had said some time ago a little after she had first joined the team and the rest of the first years were going through the problems they had been going through at the Tokyo training camp.

“Sometimes, when you think the last thing someone wants to do is talk to someone, that’s exactly what they need,” was what she had said. 

Hinata groaned eternally at the memory, knowing that Yachi was right most of the time and that he should probably go over there and make conversation with the stranger. They don’t feel well either and maybe they wouldn’t appreciate a stranger talking to them in the middle of the night, but maybe they would. Dragging his feet, Hinata begrudgingly crosses the small distance between the two hotels and shuffled over to the stranger.

They seemed pretty preoccupied by their thoughts, if them not even noticing Hinata’s presence as he approached nor how he had crawled up the cement slab they had their back against to sit on the top next to them was anything to go by. Or maybe they were so beat they couldn’t bring themselves to care. It wasn’t until Hinata sighed they seemed to acknowledge his existence.

They didn’t say anything, but their head raised and turned just the slightest bit at the sound and Hinata felt glad that he brought them out of whatever they were thinking, even just slightly. He couldn’t see their face, partly hidden from the angle at which they were from Hinata sitting on the slab and also covered with a face mask and a mop of curly hair, but he did see the corner of their eye and knew they were paying attention to him. 

“Hi,” he said, plainly. No response. “You play volleyball, too, right?” Met with silence once again, and this time they even turned their head away and lowered it once more.

“Fine, don’t talk, see if I care.” He felt a little childish at having such a reaction, they’d only just met and he was already crossing his arms pouting like he hadn’t showed up announced in this person’s space after all, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care if he did seem childish or not given the hurt he had been holding in his heart since earlier in the day . Maturity be damned, he felt he was entitled to act a little silly after everything.

He couldn’t take the silence, though, his brain buzzing, buzzing, buzzing and he needed to speak so he could quiet it even just a little bit. To disrupt the buzzing, he decided to ask, “What team do you play on?”

In place of an answer, the person lifted themself off the slab and revealed the back of their tracksuit, the word “Itachiyama” embroidered on the back. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Hinata couldn’t recall why. 

“Never heard of it,” he said bluntly with a shrug. The other person snorted like that was funny and Hinata couldn’t figure out why, but he’d been around his fair share of volleyball snobs in the past year to guess that they were probably from some powerhouse school. 

They might have even been playing them tomorrow, had they not lost. His anger swelled up in his throat and his eyes at the thought and he hit his fist against the cement in frustration. It hurt a lot and he knew he was probably exaggerating to say it felt like maybe he’d broken his knuckles, but he couldn’t find himself to care because his failure was too heavy on his shoulders to be concerned over his hand.

Finally, the mystery person spoke. “That was stupid of you do to.”

Hinata couldn’t say he was thrilled that, that was what they had decided to say, but he felt it a win that he got them to speak at all. They seemed like they were probably like Kenma or Akaashi, reserved and not saying anything more than they needed to. Hinata could deal with that, this wasn’t the first person initially reluctant to his company he’d met and they probably wouldn’t be his last. 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t the only stupid thing I’ve done today, so it’s fine,” he resigned. 

He could tell he piqued their curiosity, probably another weirdo who found the shortcomings of others weaker than them entertaining, but he could tell they were resisting their urge to ask him to elaborate. What a silly person, thinking that Hinata was anything but persistent.

“I had probably the biggest fumble of my life today, and I don’t even have anyone to share the burden with. Do you know what that’s like?”

They shifted, straightening out the wrinkles in their track jacket before crossing their arms. “From personal experience, no.”

“But, from secondhand?” Hinata filled in and received a curt nod in response.

“Our captain. He got injured and had to sit out. We lost.”

Hinata nodded, though he knew he wouldn’t be seen, and leaned back, his palms gripping the edge of the wall as he kicked his feet out. “Me too, same thing happened to me. I got sick and went to the hospital and we lost before I could even come back. One second I was standing on the court with my team preparing for victory and the next I’m dizzy and can’t think straight and we’ve lost. Just like that.”

“If you got sick that’s your own fault.” 

Hinata’s initial reaction was going to be an affronted squawk, but he knew he’d be a hypocrite to think otherwise when he had spent the entire day blaming himself. With a sigh, he said, “You’re right, it was my fault. Had I been there, I could’ve done something to save us-“

They cut him off. “That’s not what I meant.” Hinata cocked his head to the side in confusion, waiting for them to elaborate, and they sighed as if it was such a bother for them to have to explain their own thoughts.

“Getting sick was your fault, your team losing wasn’t. If they were strong enough, they would’ve been able to win regardless of if you were there or not. It’s conceited and disrespectful to think they could only win if you were there.” After a moment, they seemed to reconsider what they said. “Maybe it’s true, though, since they lost.”

Hinata didn’t know what to say. He wanted to be offended on behalf of his team, to argue and say no they are strong and who are you to say otherwise, but he also couldn’t deny that what they said didn’t make sense. While it was a bit full of himself to think victory was only certain so long as he stood on the court, Karasuno’s was not the stronger team of six people without him, and that’s why they lost. They might have lost when he was there too, but it was almost worse this way because he knew he’d never know if that were true or not. 

Wanting to get a better understanding of the bigger picture, he voiced a thought he had. “Is the same true about your team and your captain, then?”

They took a second to think. “Maybe,” they settled on. “We probably would’ve won if he was there, but maybe we wouldn’t have. No game is guaranteed, that’s why you practice. If you do, you don’t have to worry about if you were good enough or not. The ones who practice the most are the ones who win.”

“Isn’t that a bit of a black and white view of it all? Sometimes miracles happen, after all. Like you said, no game is guaranteed.”

Hinata could feel he irritated them with that statement. “‘Miracles’ are what bad players call good plays. Miracles don’t exist if that’s what you meant to do all along.”

“Huh,” Hinata said thoughtfully. “I’d never really thought of it like that before. I still think miracles exist, but that’s a cool way to think, too.”

The person huffs, rolling their shoulder as a way to put metaphorical distance between them. “I wasn’t trying to change your mind.”

“I didn’t say you were, but you still offered me your perspective, so thanks for that.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, you have kind of a bad attitude… hey, what’s your name?”

“I’m not telling you, and you remind me of someone very annoying.”

“Aw, why not? And you’re not the first person to call me annoying, trust me.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a good thing? And you’re a stranger, I have no need to give my personal information out to a stranger.”

“A stranger?!” Hinata shrieked, causing the mystery person to flinch and only afterwards remember that it was probably closed to three in the morning now. He apologized in his head for his disturbance. “A stranger?” He asked again, much quieter this time.

“Mystery-san, we just talked about some of our most personal philosophies with each other for the better part of an hour and you think we’re still strangers?”

“Don’t call me that, and yes, we’re still strangers. A single conversation regardless of its topic doesn’t suddenly make us friends. After all,” for the first time in the entire time they had been speaking to each other, the mystery person properly faced Hinata and he felt his breath hitch at how pretty their eyes were. “You don’t even know what my name is.”

Hinata couldn’t see their mouth, it was still covered by their mask, but he just knew they were smirking, they gave off that kind of vibe, and his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. 

“How are you supposed to make any friends if you don’t tell anyone your name?” He retaliated.

The person shrugged and went back to facing forward, and Hinata tried to ignore how disappointed he was over not being able to look at those eyes anymore. “Who said I want to make friends?”

Hinata snorted, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and prop his face in his hands. “Anyone that says they don’t want or need friends is lying.”

The person seemed to fall silent at that and Hinata shrugged to himself. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me your name I won’t tell you mine either.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not telling you.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Hinata sighed. What a pointless conversation this was. It wa fine, though, to him talking about nothing was better than not talking at all, so if Mystery-san wanted to keep being a little, stubborn baby that was fine, Hinata didn’t mind playing with them. 

“Since you lost, does that mean you’re leaving tomorrow, too?” He asked. Maybe they’d be less grumpy after some sleep. 

“No. We have other engagements to attend to first. We leave the day after tomorrow.”

That sucked, Hinata was hoping they’d be leaving the same day so maybe they could catch each other and they’d finally tell him their name. “What kind of ‘engagements’?”

“An interview and some scouts wanted to talk with the coaches over lunch.”

“Whoa, that’s awesome!” Hinata exclaimed. “Like, college scouts or professional scouts? Either way, that’s so cool! Do you think they’ll talk about you?”

“I don’t know,” Mystery-san sounded irritated at the bombardment of questions. “They didn’t tell us anything and I don’t really care. If I get scouted or I don’t, it doesn’t change how hard I’m going to work.”

“Whoa, Mystery-san,” Hinata said, his voice earnest and impressed. “I thought you were just a big, old grouch, but you’re actually kind of cool.”

“... I’m going inside now.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude!” Hinata grabbed their arm to stop them from leaving and they yanked away like they’d been burned.

“Do you have any idea how many germs you carry? And now you touch me, spreading your bacteria all over the place.” Mystery-san grumbled as they pulled out what appeared to be a pack of disinfectant wipes and began cleaning their sleeve. “Disgusting,” they enunciated as they walked over to the nearby trash can and threw the wipe away. 

Hinata blinked at them owlishly. He was surprised by such a reaction, and the fact that this persona apparently carried wipes with them whenever they went. He’d thought that maybe they were sick given the mask, but maybe there was something else to it than that. What surprised him the most, though, was that despite such a reaction, Mystery-san returned to the spot next to Hinata they had been previously, though with their arms crossed and much more annoyed than they had been before. 

“I’m sorry for touching you, Mystery-san,” he apologized, slightly bowing his head even if they weren’t looking at him. “I should’ve known better than to touch a stranger.”

“At least you have manners,” they mumbled, and Hinata figured that was as good as they were going to get, putting the situation to rest. 

Silence fell between them but it wasn’t as annoying as it was before. It was actually kind of nice. The wind was blowing gently, rustling the leaves of the shrubbery laid out around the hotels, and from a distance a wind chime could be heard. The ambience of the city, which Hinata had found overwhelming and oppressive before, was actually nice now and made for pleasant background noise dancing between the two of them, and Hinata realized that he actually felt better than he did before he came out here. Whoever this person was, they were a little bit of a jerk but they did just the trick to take his mind off his loss and help pick his spirits up. 

“So, what are you going to do after this?” He asked. For some reason, he could feel their time together was coming to an end, so he wanted to get as much as he could out of them before they never saw each other again. Maybe he could look back on this conversation later and daydream about whatever Mystery-san ended up doing. He wouldn’t mind, he knew this would need up a nice memory, after all.

“Practice.” Their voice was stern and purposeful and it sent a chill up Hinata’s spine. They turned towards Hinata and once again those eyes pierced right through him. “What else is there to do?”

Now, that, Hinata could agree with. Despite being two very different people, they still shared the same sentiment about the sport he loved and the thought put a smile on his face. “Right! I will too.”

Mystery-san looked a little bewildered at Hinata’s expression but quickly recovered. “Right.”

“Well, Mystery-san, we should probably get going. It’s getting late, well, early, I guess. The sun’s probably gonna come up soon.” With a grunt of effort, Hinata propelled himself off the wall and landed on the sidewalk, dusting off his hands and butt before turning to the not-so-stranger.

“Thanks for talking with me, Mystery-san. I feel a lot better than I did before.” He held his hand out for a shake, but remembering how touching had gone before, he retracted with a little, “oh, right,” and bowed instead.

“Don’t call me Mystery-san, and don’t get sick anymore. That’s really stupid of you, especially when you can prevent it.” Their voice was cold, but Hinata didn’t think he imagined the very faint hint of actual concern in the other’s voice. Maybe he was imagining it, though, it was close to five in the morning now.

“Right, I won’t.” He gave another bow before heading towards the inn, turning around to wave at the other. “See you later, Mystery-san!”

Hinata saw their eyebrows pinch together in a glare before they turned around swiftly and he watched them head inside the hotel, making sure they got in safely. As he took off his shoes, he laughed to himself quietly at the encounter.

“What a strange person,” he thought.

As he crawled into his futon, feeling much more sleepy and relaxed than he had been when he first laid there a few hours before, he made a mental note to ask Kageyama who the person with the curly hair at Itachiyama was, but he was so exhausted by the time he had woken up he thought the whole experience hadn’t been real, and when they boarded the bus he didn’t see a single green tracksuit or mask-cladded curly haired person in front of the hotel next door, he thought it really had been a dream. 

It wasn’t until many years, experiences, even a new country, and a whole new team later that Hinata would learn that conversation hadn’t been a dream at all, and the person who he affectionately referred to in his head as “Mystery-san” all these years was actually Sakusa Kiyoomi, former ace of Itachiyama and one of the top high school spikers in Japan, and now the outside hitter for his new team the MSBY Black Jackals.

What a funny revelation that had been.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really know what this is honestly but omihina make me really soft and I realized that we had zero scenes of hinata talking about getting his fever and the frustrations he obviously had over they after Karasuno lost??? And it kind of became this so yeah
> 
> Also I was planning on doing a thing where I wrote it from sakusa’s perspective and/or one where I wrote them post time skip with this experience they shared so like let me know if you want that I guess!!! Also I might edit this later for grammatical errors and stuff but idk lol thanks for reading stan omihina!!!!!
> 
> -  
> [ follow me on twitter!! ](%E2%80%9Dtwitter.com/fireflysunlight%E2%80%9D)


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